The Fellowship of the Wizards
by PercyJacksonTheAwesome
Summary: The four hobbits are accepted to Hogwarts, where they learn magic meet lots of new friends and get into some mischief. But an evil force enters the Ministry and Hogwarts, threatening to take over Middle-earth. The group known as the Fellowship of the Wizards and their friends put their strengths together to stop the dark force, deal with a mysterious ring, and pass their classes.
1. Prologue 1

**A/N: Hey guys! Here is my LOTR Hogwarts AU! I'm very excited. This story will mainly explore relationships and normal life at Hogwarts, until about 8 chapters in when all the LOTR plotlines come into play. I'm just excited to twist these stories together to make it my own. I don't know how often this will be updated, sorry. But PLEASE give me a review if you like it! Thanks!  
~PJA**

Prologue 1

_Many Years Before_

"Go on, Baggins, go in, I dare you! Are you a Gryffindor or not?"

Bilbo Baggins, a young hobbit from the Shire, was used to these tauntings by his older friends. He was a first year, and they were mostly fourth years, while Thorin, the group's leader, was a fifth year. Not to mention, Thorin and his friends were particularly adventurous and reckless, and he was not. He tagged along simply because Thorin seemed to like him, and Professor Gandalf had introduced them on the first day.

Now, however, Thorin had dared Bilbo to go into Gollum's Cave (his broom cupboard) and come back with a souvenir to prove it. The rumor had it that no student had ever gone into Gollum's Cave and come out alive; no one had ever seen Gollum before. He only came out at night, when the students were in bed and not permitted in the halls. A few had claimed to have seen him, but they were all full of rubbish.

Bilbo crept in. He was scared. He didn't know what to expect. But he had to do this. He had to prove to Thorin that he was brave; braver than the rest of them. None of his friends volunteered to come in with him; not even Thorin.

It was dark inside the cupboard. Bilbo looked for a lantern or something, but there was none. It was particularly roomy for a broom cupboard, though; he'd expected it to be smaller.

Though it was creepy, it actually wasn't that bad. Now that he was in, Bilbo began to focus on his next task: finding a souvenir. He crouched down on the ground, looking for something small he could take. The floor was a wretched mess. There was rubbish littered everywhere, and nothing was put in its right place. You could barely see the floor. Bilbo's fingers twitched, resisting the urge to clean it all up.

But then he saw it. Resting there under some sort of cloth, just peeking out. Something shiny and gold.

Bilbo picked it up between his fingertips. A ring. How about that? Who knew the mysterious Gollum had such a nice ring? Bilbo wondered if the ring held any sort of magic. Most things at Hogwarts did, after all.

_Wfft. _He heard something. Something ruffling around in the litter at the far end of the room. Bilbo stood stone-still. He dared not move. Something was in here with him.

Slowly, he crept forward, silently placing one foot in front of the other, his heart pounding. Curiosity overpowered his fear. He had to know what was back there. Step by step, he approached.

He was confronted by a pair of huge, bloodshot, blue eyes and a loud hissing noise.

Bilbo backpedaled, getting the hell out of there. He didn't care about the noise. He could barely hear it his footsteps, anyway; all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears.

He burst out of the room into his group of friends. He stumbled and fell into their arms.

"What happened in there, Baggins?" Bofur asked, peeking out from behind his hat and cheeky grin. His Irish accent had one emotion, all the time: happy. "You look white as a ghost." They'd know; there were plenty of them around the school.

Bilbo couldn't answer; he was breathing too heavily.

"Did you get anything?" Thorin asked expectantly.

Bilbo thought about the ring currently in his pocket. He wanted to show him. It was a nice little prize. But something told him to not. He didn't know what that feeling was. He wanted to keep the ring for his own. It was his, and his alone. It was..._precious_ to him.

Bilbo shook his head. "No, nothing. Sorry, fellows. I got a bit of a fright."

Thorin looked disappointed.

"Thorin!" From around the corner came Fili and Kili, Thorin's third year little cousins. "We're in trouble! Professor Gandalf and Professor Elrond, coming this way!" Fili shouted.

"We'd better move," Thorin announced. "Run!"

Taking Bilbo by the hand, Thorin ran down the hallway, followed by the little rag-tag group. And as they ran, between the pounding in his head, Bilbo couldn't help but feel a little rush of adrenaline. And what surprised him more?

He liked it.


	2. Prologue 2

Prologue 2

_Four Years Before_

"Father! Father, we're home!"

Young Faramir and his older brother Boromir had just returned home for Christmas break. This had been the beginning of Faramir's first year at Hogwarts, and he was beyond excited. He couldn't wait to tell his father everything that had happened to him since he had seen him last. Not that he hadn't written letters, of course. Faramir had written letters home every week, but his father had never written him back.

Faramir dropped his bags by the door and ran to meet his father. They lived in an immense house, and his father's study was in the back. Once he was in the doorway, however, Faramir repressed his excitement and collected himself. One had to be calm and respectful in the presence of his father.

Faramir cleared his throat and knocked on the door. "Father?"

He heard a grunt and then his father say, "Yes, come in."

Faramir gingerly opened the door. "Hello, Father. I've missed you. I have so much I want to tell you."

"I'm sure you do, son." Denethor sighed and tapped his fingers on his desk. Faramir stiffened. This wasn't a good sign. A lecture was coming on.

"Tell me, Faramir, what house did you get into?"

Until know, Faramir would have answered that question with pride. "Hufflepuff," he replied. "I told you that in one of my letters."

"Ah, yes." Denethor picked up a stack of opened letters from his desk. "These." He tossed them into the rubbish bin. Faramir tried not to appear heartbroken.

"And tell me, Faramir, what is your favorite class?"

"History of magic."

Denethor simply shook his head. "What am I going to do with you? Why can't you be more like your brother?" He slammed his hand down onto the desk, startling Faramir. "At least _he _got into a _worthy _house! Gryffindor, the brave and strong! Worthy traits, just like your brother has. But you? No, you get into _Hufflepuff_. Nothing good ever comes out of a Hufflepuff. Not to mention your love of _lore_ and _music_, when you could be considering braver endeavors, like your brother!"

Faramir tried to stay still. Boromir being the favorite was no secret to him. But feeling like a complete disappointment was not something he enjoyed. "I'm sorry, Father. But I am not Boromir."

"Well I _wish you were_!"

Faramir took that moment to leave the study. He couldn't take much of that. Ever since their mother had died, his father had acted like that. And he hated on Faramir more and more as time went on. It wasn't pleasant.

As he rounded the halls, he ran into his brother. "How was your talk with Father?" His brother asked.

"Not good," Faramir answered, trying his best to keep his composure. "He feels I am a disappointment. He hates that I was sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Hey." Boromir put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Do not take his words so harshly. He himself was a Slytherin, and people like that are quick to judge. No matter what house you are in, you can do great things, brother. I believe in you."

Faramir smiled, but just barely. "Thank you, brother."

Boromir smiled back. "Now come. I'll teach you how to get through Professor Elrond's assignments."


	3. Prologue 3

Prologue 3

_Five Years Before_

Boromir was amazed by the sheer size of Hogwarts. He'd thought that his home in Minas Tirith was big; this dwarfed his home and made it look like the smallest shack in the outskirts of Gondor.

It was his first year at Hogwarts. The first time he'd stepped into the building. He was immensely excited. He remembered when he had first received his letter. He had run into his father's office, bubbling with excitement. His father had been accepted to Hogwarts as a child; not many were. Denethor had expected both of his sons to be accepted; he expected no less. His father had been proud when Boromir had showed him the letter, but had given him a talking-to. He had better get into a worthy house, like Slytherin or Gryffindor. Or else. Denethor himself had been a Slytherin. It was like him to expect nothing else.

As he walked with the other first-years down the middle aisle of the Great Hall, he began to get nervous and sweaty. Everyone was looking at them. Everyone would watch him be sorted.

But he had to put on a good face. He had to live up to his name, and to the standards everyone put him up to. He was worthy.

The first years made it to the front of the Great Hall. The noises of the other students were quieted; the Headmaster stood up.

"Welcome to another fine year at Hogwarts." He smiled and leaned heavily on his staff. "And I welcome all our new first-years; may your experience at this school be a great one."

Boromir had heard many tales of Headmaster Saruman the White. He was a great and powerful wizard who had been the Headmaster of Hogwarts for as long as anyone could remember. Boromir felt honored to be standing in his presence.

"And now, before we feast, we will proceed with the sorting." Saruman motioned to the lady on his right; clothed in white. Boromir recognized her. She was Galadriel, Lady of Lorien, the most powerful Elf witch in Middle-earth, and the professor of divination at Hogwarts. Boromir resisted the urge to bow in her presence.

"The first years will be called alphabetically in the common tongue by surnames or father's name to be sorted." She strode from her spot at the table next to the stool with an old hat sitting upon it. "When I call your name," she announced, "come up and sit on the stool, and I will place the hat upon your head." She pulled a scroll from her sleeve, and began to read names from it.

The first name called was an Elf named Haldir. He had long blond hair, and from the look of recognition in Galadriel's eyes, he was an Elf of Lothlorien. Haldir broke free of the sea of first-years, walked up the few steps and sat on the stool. Galadriel lowered the hat onto his head.

And immediately the hat began to talk. Boromir's eyes opened wide. He had heard stories of the talking Sorting Hat, but until this moment he had doubted they were true.

"Hmm...I think I'll put you in...HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Great Hall erupted into cheers and applause as Haldir removed the hat from his head and made his way to the Hufflepuff table, obviously identified by the over-ecstatic cheers heard above the rest.

After Haldir, a few more students were called. But then Galadriel called, "Boromir, son of Denethor!"

Boromir took a deep breath. It was finally his turn. It was time for the next seven years of his life to be decided. Without much hesitation, he held his head high and took his place on the stool. The hat was lowered onto his head, almost covering his eyes.

The Sorting Hat began to talk to him. "Well, well, son of Denethor. I remember him. Sneaky and manipulative, a Slytherin through and through. But _you_, Boromir, I see nothing but strength and courage. You are brave, valiant, and worthy. Many will look up to you and your great deeds. There's no better place to put you in than...GRYFFINDOR!"

The room applauded for him, and a wide smile spread across his face. Gryffindor. The house of the brave. It would suit him well. He was very pleased.

Boromir pulled the hat off his head and just about skipped down to the Gryffindor table. He sat in the nearest available seat, receiving pats on the back from older Gryffindor members.

But the sorting still went on. "Aragorn Elessar!"

The room went weirdly quiet as the young man Aragorn went to take a seat at the stool. Aragorn? As in, the son of Arathorn? Boromir had heard legends of Aragorn before. The heir of Isildur; the rightful King of Gondor. Only, Aragorn had strayed away from his path long ago. Boromir did not know where he had been living all this time. Besides, he had more the looks of a Ranger than of a King. He had long brown hair, shaggy and knotted, and under the Hogwarts robes, Boromir spotted boots on his feet.

The hat stayed on Aragorn's head for awhile. Boromir could not hear what it said, until it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Again, applause. Boromir himself joined in. Aragorn solemnly walked down from the stool and took a seat at the Gryffindor table, across from Boromir.

It struck him then. Aragorn would be in his house. They would likely share a dormitory. He would likely get to know him pretty well.

Boromir was about to open his mouth and ask him a question, but Aragorn's attention was diverted back to the sorting.

"Eomer, son of Eomund!"

Boromir knew Eomer. He lived in Rohan, a close neighbor of Gondor, and he was the nephew of the King of Rohan. Eomer had spoken to Boromir on many occasions. He was noble and just, always looking out for his people.

The hat was on his head for only a short moment before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Eomer grinned as he made his way to the table and sat next to Boromir. Boromir gave him a pat on the back.

"Legolas Greenleaf!"

Boromir found this name a bit peculiar, until he saw Legolas coming up to the stool and discovered that he was an Elf. He was the first Elf to be called up since Haldir. He, like Haldir, was blond, but he did not look like he came from the woods of Lothlorien. Nor did he look to be a Silvan Elf. He had a more regal appearance about him. He sat nimbly in the stool, his eyes scanning the crowd.

The hat was placed upon his head. It only needed a moment before shouting, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Boromir noticed that Aragorn clapped especially hard for Legolas. He could have sworn that Legolas locked eyes with Aragorn and gave him a small smile before making his way to the Hufflepuff table next to Haldir.

Most of the rest of the sorting was a blur to Boromir. Most of the students called up were Elves or Men, though there were a few Dwarves as well. The only one he could remember was an Elf named Tauriel, with flaming red hair, sorted into Gryffindor.

That was, until, one of the last students was called up. "Arwen Undomiel!"

The Great Hall went practically silent. Arwen, the Elf, was the daughter of Elrond, who taught history of magic at Hogwarts, and one of the most revered professors ever. Boromir had never known anyone who did not speak of Elrond with the utmost respect.

Arwen just about glided up to the stool and sat. The hat was gingerly placed upon her head. After a good many moments, the hat proclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Great Hall erupted into applause. Boromir snuck a look at Elrond, sitting up at the head table, clapping proudly and smiling, as Elrond seldom did. But Boromir also noticed Aragorn clapping and smiling as he had done for Legolas. Boromir wondered what his connection to Arwen was.

Only a few students were sorted after Arwen. After they were, Headmaster Saruman stood up again and proclaimed, "Let the feast begin."

Mountains of food appeared on the table before them. Boromir was in awe. Was that the sort of thing wizards could do? Was that the sort of thing he would learn to do here? He was in shock.

Boromir eagerly took a drumstick from the plate in front of him and dug in. He could already tell that he was going to love Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Do you think they serve second breakfast there?"

"I don't think so, Pip." Merry replied to his cousin. "Most hobbits don't get accepted to Hogwarts, and most folks don't know about second breakfast."

"Still." Pippin sighed and plopped against the back of his seat. "Can you believe it, though? Of all the hobbits in the Shire to get accepted to Hogwarts, it's the four of us. What are the odds?"

It was a bit of a miracle. Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took, the newest hobbits at Hogwarts. However, that did mean a long carriage ride to Hogwarts with Pippin.

"What house do you think you'll get into, Merry?" Pippin asked, bubbling with excitement.

"I'm not entirely sure, Pip."

"If you don't get into Ravenclaw, I'd be surprised," Frodo retorted with a smile. "You're the smartest of all of us."

"Well, maybe."

"I don't know what house I'll get into, honestly," Pippin stated. "I could be fit for any of them. I like to think of myself as loyal, daring, intelligent..."

"Intelligent! Now that's a good one, Pip!"

"Speak for yourself, Merry..."

"I will, Pip..."

They got into a heated discussion about intelligence, so Frodo turned to Sam, who was sitting at his side.

"Will they be like this the whole trip?" He asked Sam.

"Most likely, Frodo," Sam replied. "Just be thankful they're not getting into any kind of trouble."

Frodo smiled. He surely would be thankful for that. There wasn't much room to get into mischief in the small carriage.

He sighed, looking back at his last glimpses of the Shire. He truly didn't know when he would see it again. It was such a long journey to Hogwarts; he didn't know if they'd come back for Christmas. For some reason, it felt like goodbye.

It certainly felt like goodbye when he'd said farewell to his Uncle Bilbo this morning. The old hobbit had hugged him tight, and had wished him the best of times. He had told him all of his stories of his adventures at Hogwarts when he was younger, and his strange friends. Bilbo had been a Gryffindor, which had surprised everyone at the time. But he had proven himself brave, many times over. Frodo hoped that he would do the same.

His uncle had also given him a little parting gift. His old ring. Frodo held it in his pocket, rubbing his fingers along the band, hoping it would bring him good luck and remind him of home.

After many hours on the journey, the carriage pulled to a stop. "We've arrived." The driver called back to them.

Pippin was bouncing so much he almost burst out of the carriage. "Are we really here, Merry?"

"Calm down, Pippin." Merry snapped, putting a hand to Pippin's shoulder, subduing his excitement. "Yes, Pippin, we're here. The driver just said so. Now calm down and get out of the carriage."

Telling Pippin to calm down was utterly pointless. Sam opened the door, and Pippin sprang from the carriage, his small feet pattering against the dirt path. "Come on, let's go! I can see the castle, it's enormous!"

"Pippin!" Merry shouted. "Come and get your trunks! You can't go to Hogwarts empty-handed."

"_Alright_, Merry, I'll get them." Pippin sauntered back and snatched his luggage from the back of the carriage, attempting to run with them and failing.

"Pippin! You have to walk!"

Groaning, Pippin slowed to a walk, dragging his trunks behind him. The others soon followed with their own luggage, quickly catching up to Pippin.

"Don't go running off like that!" Sam scolded.

"Or what?" Pippin challenged.

"You could get lost!" Sam said. "Just remember, Men and Elves go to this school, too. It's huge; it'll seem seem daunting to us."

"Oh, quit your worrying, Sam," Pippin said, waving away Sam's warning. "I'll be fine."

But as the hobbits approached the school, Pippin began to shut up, for it was very big. Bigger than he could have imagined. The four hobbits joined the throng of first-year Men and Elves, and suddenly felt very small. Frodo feared they would be trampled if they were not careful. He kept a close eye on Pippin.

Soon, the group of first-years entered the castle. Frodo's eyes widened at the sight of it. The inside seemed even bigger than the outside. The ceiling appeared to be one hundred feet high, and the floor as big wide. It was a room Frodo felt he could get lost in if he was not careful.

The group kept trekking forward, so the hobbits attempted to keep up with the group.

And if Frodo thought the first room was big, it was nothing to the size of the Great Hall. Frodo could hear the gasp of Sam by his side. Frodo doubted any of them had been in a room so big in their lives. In front of him, Frodo could hear the excited chatter of Pippin, and the awe of Merry, taking note on everything he saw. And it was a sight indeed. Candles floating in the air above their heads, and a ceiling so high it was like the night stars themselves. Even from a hobbit's viewpoint, Frodo could tell that it was enchanted to look like the sky outside.

Taking up the majority of the room were four long tables, stretching from end to end of the room. At each of the four different tables were students wearing robes with red and gold ties, blue and silver ties, yellow and black ties, and green and silver ties, respectively. The four houses.

The first-years reached the front of the Great Hall, up to the head table, and then stopped. Near the middle of the table, Frodo spotted one of his old friends, Professor Gandalf the Grey. Frodo's heart warmed to see him. Gandalf often stopped by the Shire to visit, and to set off his renowned fireworks display. He was famous throughout the Shire for those. Gandalf spotted him and gave him a small smile and tip of his hat. Frodo smiled in return.

The room hushed as the Headmaster stood up. "Welcome, all," he greeted, "to another year at Hogwarts. To the new first-years, I am Headmaster Saruman the White, and I wish you a fine welcome."

Saruman. Frodo had felt like he had heard the name before. It tickled the back of his mind like a distant itch.

"Before we begin the festivities, we must go through the sorting of the first-years. And to that, I defer to Professor Galadriel."

He motioned to the woman next to him, a lady draped entirely in white. She stood, chin held high, a scroll in hand. Frodo could tell by the way she held herself that she was an Elf. He looked to Sam, whose entire face was in awe. All his life Sam had wanted to see an Elf, and here was the most dazzling one they would ever see.

The Elf, Galadriel, stepped away from her seat to the center in front of the head table, where there was an old stool and a ratty hat.

"When I call your name," she said in a voice smooth as silk, "come up and sit on the stool, and I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head." She unrolled the scroll and began to read names off of it. "Frodo Baggins!"

Frodo froze where he was. He didn't want to go first. He wanted to see how it was done so he would know what to do. He took a deep breath and rubbed his fingers against the ring in his pocket. He could do this.

From the back of the group, he made his way to the front, hoping he wouldn't get caught under anyone's robes or shoes. Eventually he got to the stool, and he had to climb up to get on and sit on it. Galadriel smiled at him, then placed the hat on his head, sliding down over his eyes.

The hat immediately began to talk to him. "Oh, a Baggins! Adventurous little things, you hobbits. I see that there is more to you than meets the eye, little one. You are resilient, and you have courage. You will prove yourself in the end, and I see no better place to put you in than...GRYFFINDOR!"

An overwhelming amount of applause came to greet him as he yanked the hat off his head. He dropped off the stool and made his way to the Gryffindor table. He found the nearest available seat on the bench. It was a tall bench. He attempted to get up by himself, but a large hand took a fistful of the clothes on his back and lifted him up onto the bench. Frodo looked up and saw the face of a Man, tall, with long brown hair and blue eyes. He had a rough appearance, but a warm smile.

"Do not fear, little hobbit," he said to Frodo. "I know it is big here, but I will help you out. My name is Aragorn."

"Frodo," Frodo responded. He was going to say more, but the continuing sorting drew his attention.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck!"

Merry, chipper as ever, pushed his way through the crowd and climbed up onto the stool. Like Frodo, the hat covered his eyes. Frodo could not hear anything the hat said to Merry, until it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

As always, Merry was grinning as he popped the hat off his head and went to the Ravenclaw table. One of the Elves sitting near the front helped him up. He turned and gave Frodo a look of pride. Frodo mouthed to him, "I told you."

A few more names were called, mostly of Men and a few Elves, and were assorted into various houses. Frodo couldn't remember them all. He felt sorry for Sam and Pippin, who seemed to be waiting in the large crowd forever.

But finally, "Samwise Gamgee!"

Sam, looking incredibly nervous, weaved through the first-years until he reached the stool. Galadriel gingerly placed the hat upon his head. Sam appeared frightened, and Frodo assumed the hat was speaking to him.

It spoke to him for awhile. Eventually, however, the hat proclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sam was so relieved to be done with the sorting that he leaped off the stool with the hat still on his head. Embarrassed, he returned the hat to Galadriel before heading to the Hufflepuff table, where he was helped up by a good-looking blond Elf.

Quite some time passed before they reached Pippin. Frodo could spot Pippin and Merry making faces at each other when his name was called.

"Peregrin Took!"

At first, Pippin didn't respond. It didn't seem that he heard. His name was called again.

_Peregrin Took_!"

This time Pippin did respond. "Me? Oh, my apologies!" He ran to the stool and was so eager to be sorted that he almost took the hat from Galadriel and jammed it on his own head.

Frodo saw Gandalf shaking his head and muttering to himself.

After only a few moments, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Pippin was wild excited. He popped off the stool and ran to Frodo, excitement in his step. Aragorn, who had helped Frodo, reached across Frodo to help Pippin up. "Thanks!" Pippin said.

"My pleasure."

Soon, the sorting was finished, and Saruman again stood up. "Now that the sorting is done, let the feast begin."

And before their very eyes, food appeared on the tables before them, bewildering the hobbits.

"Look at that!" Pippin exclaimed. "Food, right out of nowhere! Now, that's magic for you!" Pippin immediately began to load his plate with all the food he could get his hands on. He spotted Aragorn giving him a strange look. "What? I'm starving!" Aragorn only shook his head.

Frodo began to eat. He was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of food to even think about eating everything, though.

"What do you say, Aragorn? D'you think I could eat this entire plate of chicken legs?" A voice came from the other side of Aragorn. Frodo looked around to see that it was a Dwarf, with a red beard and hair.

"I'm not willing to make bets with you, Gimli," Aragorn retorted. "But I'm sure Legolas would agree to take that on."

The Dwarf, Gimli, grumbled. "You're right." Gimli stood up on the table and shouted across the Great Hall. "Legolas!" The blond Elf from the Hufflepuff table looked up. Gimli held up the plate of chicken legs. "Are you willing to bet I can eat the entire plate?"

"Not before I can!" Legolas motioned down to his chicken plate, which was already half empty.

Gimli seemed bewildered. "You pointy-eared princeling! I'll show you that a dwarf's stomach can beat an elf's!" Gimli sat back down and began to stuff his face with chicken legs. Frodo peeked back over to the Hufflepuff table, and saw that Legolas was handing out his chicken legs to the elf girl and light brown-haired man sitting near him. Frodo couldn't help but chuckle.

"Gimli, I do not think you will beat him this time around," said a long, blond-haired man sitting across from Frodo.

"This time, I will!" responded Gimli through a full mouth.

"When have you ever beat him in the past?" asked the man sitting to the right of the one across from Frodo, whom Frodo noted was similar to the one sitting near Legolas.

Frodo noticed that Gimli refused to answer.

The blond-haired man sitting across from Frodo looked at him as if just realizing he was there. "Oh! Aragorn, did you realize that there's a...two halflings sitting next to you?"

Aragorn only smiled. "I did. You were just too thick in the head to see them approach." Aragorn turned to Frodo and Pippin. "My friends, let me introduce you. This is Boromir, son of Denethor, Eomer, son of Eomund," he motioned to the light brown-haired man and blond-haired man, respectively, who gave small bows of their heads "This is Gimli, son of Gloin," he motioned to the Dwarf, currently busy stuffing his face with chicken legs, "and this is Eowyn, sister of Eomer, and Tauriel, Silvan Elf of Mirkwood." He was referring to the blonde woman sitting next to Eomer and the red-haired Elf sitting next to her. The two ladies gave them warm smiles, which Frodo returned.

"And you are?" Aragorn asked the hobbits, though Frodo suspected that he already knew their names and was only asking out of courtesy.

"I am Frodo Baggins, of the Shire," Frodo responded, speaking loudly so his small voice could be heard over the roar of the Great Hall.

"My name is Pippin," Pippin shouted through mouthfuls of pudding and crackers. "Frodo is my cousin. My _second _cousin, once removed on his mother's side." Pippin seemed proud of himself for remembering all that. "My cousin Merry is sitting over at the Ravenclaw table over there - he's my first cousin."

The listeners at the table began to chuckle. "Your friend was sorted into Ravenclaw, you say?" Boromir asked Pippin.

"Yes, indeed."

"Well, if he's anything like you, little one, make sure he steers clear of Lindir. He might get himself into a heap of trouble."

"Lindir?" Frodo questioned.

"Yes, Lindir. He's an elf, seventh year, Head Boy of Ravenclaw House. There he is, sitting at the end of the table." Aragorn pointed to the Ravenclaw table and Frodo saw he was referring to the brunette Elf he had seen help Merry up onto the bench earlier.

"Lindir has a heart of good intentions, but he is a constant suck-up to Elrond," Eomer told the hobbits, "Ever since his first year he's done nothing with himself but spend his time with Elrond getting on his good side. Seems it has paid off, as he is Head Boy this year. But he lets the power get to his head most of the time, and likes to report on troublemakers."

Frodo spotted the mischievous gleam in Pippin's eyes. He appreciated the tip from the older students, but he feared it was in vain. Pippin loved a challenge, and Frodo feared what type of trouble he and Merry could get into.

* * *

Sam didn't like being separated from Frodo. He felt awkward and uncomfortable. He had a bit of trouble getting himself to talk with strangers. However, the blond Elf, who had helped him up and was now sitting next to him, seemed pretty nice to him. He didn't talk very much, though. The brunette Elf girl and light brown-haired man across from him did most of the talking.

Nonetheless, before today, even in his wildest dreams he never would have imagined that he would be sitting at a table with a man and two Elves. _Elves_. Yet here he was.

"Master Samwise, what is life like in the Shire?" The man, whose name he had learned was Faramir, asked him. "I have never been to such a place. I have spent most of my life in Gondor, and have never ventured to the places up north."

"Well," Sam began. "It's very green. Green rolling hills, the sun shining. Strawberry fields and paths and rivers." Sam knew that didn't make any sense, but that's what he thought of. He couldn't explain the Shire; no one could.

Faramir smiled nonetheless. "It sounds like a wonderful place."

"Legolas!" A shout came from across the Great Hall. A redheaded Dwarf was standing on the Gryffindor table, holding a plate of chicken legs.

Legolas already seemed to know what was coming. He handed a few pieces of chicken to Faramir and Arwen, the other Elf. "Take these, don't question it," he said to them before diverting his attention to the Dwarf.

"Are you willing to bet I can eat the entire plate?" The Dwarf challenged.

"Not before I can!" Legolas retorted, motioning to the plate in front of him, which had just been emptied of half its chicken legs.

The Dwarf appeared bewildered. "You pointy-eared princeling! I'll show you that a dwarf's stomach can beat an elf's!" The Dwarf sat back down and began to stuff his face with chicken legs. Legolas chuckled. He slipped the other three some more chicken legs while taking a bite out of one himself.

Sam couldn't help but comment. "Excuse me, Master Elf, but isn't that cheatin'?"

"Not when it's with Gimli," Legolas responded, a gleam in his eye.

"You're going to get used to this," Arwen said to him. "It's what they do. Playful banter, bets, competitions. The two of them are a bit unbearable when they're with my boyfriend Aragorn."

"A bit like Merry and Pippin?"

Sam knew the comment was a bit more for himself. None of them had encountered Merry and Pippin yet, and he hoped it wouldn't end badly when they did.

Legolas handed him another leg. "Another, Sam? We wouldn't want Gimli to think he was winning, now would we?"

Sam smiled and took the leg. Perhaps he would make some new friends at Hogwarts after all, even if they were Elves and Men, and a lot older than him.

* * *

Soon the feast was over, and the students were being flushed out of the Great Hall to their respective dormitories. The sudden wave of people coming at him frightened Frodo, who of course had no idea where to go. So he stuck close to Aragorn, trusting that he would lead him to the right place. Frodo took note that Pippin followed behind him. Aragorn pushed the two hobbits in front of him, so that no one would overtake them from behind.

Up ahead, Frodo heard a voice shout, "Gryffindors, this way!" He couldn't see the person that the voice belonged to.

The Gryffindors began to shuffle ahead out of the Great Hall into the corridors of the school. Frodo looked up and was amazed to see that the staircases were moving.

"Do they always move like that?" Frodo asked Aragorn.

Aragorn nodded. "Indeed. You have to have careful timing and know exactly where you're going."

"But what if the staircase moves when I'm on it?" Pippin questioned. "What do I do then?"

"You stay," Aragorn answered simply, "and you either wait for the staircase to move back, or you find an alternate route to your destination."

"Do you have maps or anything like that?"

"No, we do not."

"Well that doesn't seem like good planning."

Aragorn chuckled, but Frodo remained weary. How was he, a small hobbit, supposed to find his way around a huge school with staircases that changed? The task daunted him.

But right now, he didn't have to worry. He wasn't alone. He touched the ring in his pocket. If Bilbo could find his way through the school, so could he.

They climbed staircase after staircase, up up up. At this rate, they'd be heading for the roof, Frodo pondered.

It turned out his thoughts weren't far off. It turned out they had climbed all the way up to a tower. The group turned a corner, went down a hallway, and arrived at a large painting on the wall. The painting depicted a woman, and she was rather large. And she moved! Frodo took a quick look at the other paintings on the walls. They all moved! He figured he was too absorbed in everything else to notice the moving paintings.

"Password?" the woman in the painting asked.

"Caput draconis," the boy at the front, whom Frodo guessed was the Gryffindor Head Boy, answered.

To Frodo's amazement, the portrait swung open, and the students began to climb inside.

"This is the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room and dormitories. You enter through the portrait with a password, which changes periodically." Aragorn said to Frodo as they shuffled inside. Frodo had a feeling Pippin might have trouble with that.

The group stopped in the middle of the room, which Frodo guessed was the common room. It was warm and cozy, painted in red, had a fireplace, many couches and chairs, and had a set of stairs going up from either side.

"This is the Gryffindor Common Room, first years," said the Head Boy. "It's where you'll be spending a lot of your time. Boys dormitories are up the stairs to your right, and girls on your left. First years dormitories will be on the first floor up, and your luggage has already been brought to your rooms."

This seemed to be the end of the Head Boy's tour, as the group dispersed. Aragorn knelt down to Frodo's level.

"This is where I leave you. I'm going to bed," he said. "But find me in the morning for breakfast, and I will tell you everything you wish to know. If you need me for anything at all, I will be up on the sixth floor with the other sixth years. Do not be afraid to come in if you need anything. My dorm consists of Eomer, Boromir, myself and two Elves. They will welcome you."

"Thank you, Aragorn." Frodo said. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to us?"

"Because I remember when I was a first year myself. Small, afraid. I do not wish for you to feel the same." He stood up to his full height. "And it is common courtesy. Goodnight, young hobbits." He bade them farewell and began to climb the stairs to his dorm.

"Well he's a nice lad," Pippin commented. "Come on, Frodo, let's head up! I want to see our dorm!"

Pippin bounded up the stairs with Frodo following behind. Pippin burst through the door on the first floor into a circular room, five beds around the perimeter, and currently only lit by the moonlight streaming in through the window. A large pile of luggage was strewn about the center of the floor.

"Let's get a bit more light, shall we?" Pippin set himself with turning on the lanterns in the room, giving it a bit of a hazy glow. "That's better." He took a quick look around. "Are we the first ones here? First dibs on beds!"

"I don't care which one you take, Pippin," Frodo said, "But I want this one here by the window." Frodo picked up his trunks from the middle of the room and set them on the bed he'd chosen. It was that moment that he realized that these beds were made to fit Elves and Men, and would be downright huge for a hobbit. He would have to see if there were stools they could get to make climbing into bed easier.

"Alright then, suit yourself. I didn't really want that one, anyway. I'll just take this one next to you, right by the door." And so Pippin took his own luggage and the two hobbits began to unpack.

Within a few minutes, their three other roommates arrived; two men and one elf. They hardly seemed to notice that they were there. They simply took their luggage, chose one of the vacant beds, unpacked, snuffed the lanterns and were asleep in an instant.

Once Frodo himself was done packing, he took ahold of one of the bedposts and pulled himself up. Thankfully, he got himself onto the mattress without too much stress. And Pippin seemed to not have much trouble, either. The two hobbits tucked themselves in and readied themselves to go to sleep.

"Frodo?" Pippin whispered.

"Yes?"

"How do you think Merry and Sam are doing?"

"I don't know. Just fine, I should hope." He counted on Merry being fine without Pippin; he was more worried about the vice-versa. Sam, however, he was worried about. He didn't know how Sam would fare on his own.

Pippin seemed to relax. "What do you think this year will be like?"

"I don't know, Pippin. I don't know."

Soon, Frodo heard the soft sound of his cousin sleeping. But he himself couldn't find sleep. He turned on his side and gazed out the window. The tower view really was marvelous. He sighed. He couldn't wait for a magical year to begin.


End file.
